


Don't Run, Little Rabbit

by pawnofkings



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:07:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25990294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pawnofkings/pseuds/pawnofkings
Summary: “I'm not going anywhere. But even if I had to, I don't know if I could anymore.”“And that scares you”, Andrew said."Yes", Neil whispered.--Neil can't remember how to properly pack his duffel bag. Andrew helps him come to terms with the fact that he doesn't have to.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 21
Kudos: 285





	Don't Run, Little Rabbit

Five shirts, two pairs of jeans, three pairs of socks, and an extra set of shoes. Underwear. Two water bottles, a small first aid kit. Wet wipes, a bag of dried fruit, and his binder, unopened for weeks. 

He was forgetting something. He didn't know what, and that unnerved him like few other things ever could. How used had he gotten to the safety of Fox Tower that he had forgotten how to pack his runaway bag?

Neil paced up and down the room, running his hands through his hair until it stood on end. Every time, he gripped a little tighter, needing to feel the pain in order to ground him. What had he missed? What had he missed?

How long had it been since he last went on the run that he couldn’t even remember how to?

Just one year ago, he’d checked his bag every single day, morning and night, to make sure that it was all in there and now he couldn't even remember what in the hell to put in it. This should have come to him like second nature, and yet here he was, failing at the one thing he’d been meant to do his entire life. 

His mother admonished him in his mind.  _ Stupid. How have you managed to live this long? Sheer luck. That won’t always save you _ .

The ground wasn't stable underneath his feet. 

He couldn't run. He didn't know how to. He felt like he'd fail the second he stepped out of the Tower. 

It was hard to stand still. He never had been good at being still, only ever moving - forward, backward, retracing his steps or forging new paths. Running down the street, through a forest, or staring through the window of a Greyhound bus to a state he’d never seen.

Where would he go now if he had to? Maine? Florida? Canada? Would he leave the country - would he leave the continent? Would South America be a good option? His Spanish was far from perfect, but he assumed they blend in quite well in the chaotic street life of their biggest cities. He never sought refuge there before, so it might at least be unexpected.

How would he get there though? By plane? He couldn't use forged documents anymore, Browning had made that very clear.

The FBI would be on him in a second. They monitored his every move, he assumed, and he hated that but still understood. He was a key witness in an ongoing investigation. But that didn't make it any easier to cope with. This feeling of being watched, when being watched had previously meant being dead - as good as, anyway. 

He wouldn't be able to leave the country. 

If he did leave, he’d be doing so with official documents, which was the opposite of the point when trying to avoid being found. He couldn’t leave country.

There was a Greyhound bus stop not far from campus. He could walk there in less than fifteen minutes. He already knew what buses were going. He checked every week to see that the schedule hadn't changed. In two hours, a bus would leave for Florida. He wouldn't be getting on it because he didn't need to run. 

But what if he had? Would he have made it?

He wasn't sure of that. Even less certain than he usually had been while on the run. And that made his head buzz with fear. 

All he'd ever done was run. He was a rabbit ceaselessly chased by wolves and he’d made it for a long time simply by hiding, and running, and evading.

But somehow at some point along the way had ceased to be the rabbit. And that was a deliberate choice at the time.

He didn't think it would affect him to this degree. 

The sound of the bedroom door opening jolted him from his thoughts. He hadn't even noticed the front door opening and closing, but it must have because he'd been alone just a few minutes ago. He thought, at least. His instincts and sense of self-preservation really were getting rusty if he didn't even notice someone getting that close. 

Neil wanted to slap himself for being so complacent.

Then Andrew was there, watching him with an eyebrow raised and arms crossed in front of him as he leaned against the doorway. 

He didn't say anything, gaze moving from Neil's harried face to the stuffed duffel bag on his bed.

Neil didn't know what to say. He could feel the judgment radiating off of Andrew, the disappointment and the frustration with him, and he just didn't want to deal with it right then. 

He decided to run in a small way. Just to leave the building, come back later when his mind wasn't so scattered. But he couldn't make his way past Andrew, as the man moved to block the door. 

“Where are you going?” Andrew asked. 

Neil shrugged, trying not to groan in frustration. He’d lost it in front of Andrew way too many times already, and he didn’t want to do so now.  _ Run. Hide. _

But then something in Andrew’s eyes softened. 

“Neil”, he said. 

“I don't know what I forgot”, Neil confessed. “There's something missing that I forgot to pack and I don't know what it is.”

“And where exactly are you planning on going?”

Neil sighed. “Nowhere.” Upon seeing Andrew’s skepticism, he insisted, “I'm not going anywhere.”

“But there's something you forgot to pack”, Andrew finished for him. 

Neil nodded. “Yes.” He didn’t feel like explaining it, the prickling feeling in his fingertips and ache in his chest. “I'm not going anywhere. But even if I had to, I don't know if I could anymore.”

“And that scares you”, Andrew said. Not a question, but a statement. He could read Neil too well. 

Neil shrugged, then nodded, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. “Yes?” 

Andrew crossed the room toward the bed and pulled the duffel off of it. He kicked it in under the bed and Neil wanted to comment, but he said nothing. 

He only approached Andrew when the other man reached out a hand, allowing himself to be pulled down onto the mattress. Andrew followed soon after, and the arms that wrapped around him helped ground him. Neil struggled on an inhale, but he managed to get a full breath into his lungs, and his mind felt less clouded by the panic.

“No one is coming for you”, Andrew spoke into Neil’s hair. “You’re safe here. You’re allowed to stay. You’re  _ supposed _ to stay.”

Neil pressed his face into Andrew’s neck, pulse beating into his cheek. He tried to keep his breaths slow and regular, using Andrew’s warmth to comfort him. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“I know you don’t. But every day that you stay here, you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to do.” Andrew raised a hand and began to comb it through Neil’s hair, and the tension bled from his muscles at the feeling. “All you have to do is stay.”

That’s when Neil realized: the feeling of something missing hadn’t stemmed from what he’d forgotten to pack, but the people he would’ve had to leave behind.


End file.
